


six feet under the stars

by astronauts



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, and appearances of papa hollis yay, really tiny bit of lafontaine, this is all fucking fluff again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronauts/pseuds/astronauts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura's trying too hard to get to know a girl two grades above her, with a fake ID and some courage, she might just have a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	six feet under the stars

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi, i know two out of three of my works are all time low related but i swear i have other things planned, and i've just been wanting to write this for a while now (i just haven't found the right pairing lol). 
> 
> this fic is loosely based off six feet under the stars by all time low.

 

_** meet me on thames street / i'll take you out though i'm hardly worth your time / in the cold you look so fierce, but i'm warm enough / because the tension's like a fire ** _

_** six feet under the stars — all time low ** _

* * *

It's nine pm on a school term Thursday and you're outside the local club, waiting in line with twenty or so other sweaty and loud teenagers. You tap your foot anxiously against the concrete curb and wrinkle your nose at the smoke from the cigarettes, curling around you. Some people are giving you weird looks and you really can't blame them, because you look like the kind of person who'd stay at home watching Netflix in sweatpants, but instead you're here. You push yourself on tippy toes to look for the front of the queue and you balance yourself by pressing your fingers into the brick wall of the narrow alleyway. The neon sign flickers on and off above you, buzzing occasionally when the fluorescent pink fades off into the darkness. 

 

You press your fake ID between the pads of your thumb and your forefinger, squinting at the details printed on the card. You'd managed to persuade your friend, Lafontaine, to help you get one earlier this week and you've been staring at it ever since. You wonder if it's really that hard to find the difference between a real ID and a fake one and you realise that it's ridiculous, how these manage to pass off as real ones, but as long as you get into the club, it doesn't matter. 

 

You waited another ten minutes and you're beginning to grow impatient. You'd almost chickened out and stepped out of the line when the couple in front of you moves in and you're facing a man twice as big as you. He asks for your ID and smirks down at you. You puff your chest out in a threatening manner and press the card into his rough hands, your own hands curling into fists as you watch his expressions carefully. He rolls his eyes and tosses the card back at you, pulling the heavy doors open and letting you in. You mentally congratulate yourself as you side step into the club, your eyes trying their best to focus in the darkness. 

 

Quietly shuffling around the area, you glance down at your fake ID, the occasional rotating strobe light flashing just enough light on your palms to allow you to see the card. You're surprised anyone even bought that because you looked like you're fourteen in that ID, but you sigh and slip it in the back pockets of your jeans, while subconsciously wiping your sweaty palms against the denim. You scan the dark room twice before your eyes land on her. Carmilla Karnstein. The reason why you're in this godforsaken place when you could've been piled in ten layers of blankets at home instead. You think about your entire shelf of cookies and Poptarts and you frown. Your heart rate quickens and you unconsciously step closer to where she was seated at the bar stools, rolling the tiny cocktail-decorating umbrella between her fingers. 

 

You've known Carmilla since you were a freshman. You've always admired her strength and courage and the way she carries herself with so much grace. She's two years older than you and you don't think she's ever taken note of you around but you have, time and time again. She just makes herself stand out without really trying, and you can't help but notice her. You've never really had the chance of reason to talk to her so when you heard that she frequents this bar, you jumped at the opportunity. 

 

Your eyes rake down her body and back up at her face again. She donned a tight corset, that in your opinion showed way too much cleavage, and those leather pants. You're not sure if she even washes those because she wears them almost everyday. You swallow and your foot steps quicken, and suddenly you're trying to push yourself into the barstool next to hers. You can almost feel her gaze on you as you finally land yourself into the swivel stool. You grin at no one in particular before you turn your head and realize Carmilla's been staring at you. 

 

_Shit Hollis, play it cool._

 

You squint at the different concoctions and you point at a random one, signalling to the bartender. He tilts his head at you and you feel your cheeks flush, but he hands you the drink anyway. The liquid barely made it down your throat before you feel it. You probably should've been more careful about choosing your liquor because you feel as if your tongue is on fire and you're coughing and spluttering. You hear a soft chuckle over the blasting music and you look up to see Carmilla tilting her head at you. You almost fall off the stool but you tilt your head back at her as casually as you can manage and took another sip from the triangular shaped class. 

 

"If it's really that bad you don't have to drink it, cupcake." You drop the glass onto the bar and face Carmilla. "Why're you here anyway, you're from Silas, right? I've seen you around."

 

_She knows you._

 

You eagerly nod your head and she smirks. "You're like what—fifteen?" She continues, plucking the red umbrella off your cup and pressing her finger tips into the edges of the frilly paper. You frown indignantly at her and cross your arms. 

 

"I'm almost seventeen." You huff, glaring at her. 

 

"This place has an eighteen year old age restriction." She gives you a smug smile and you almost do something stupid like pull your fake ID out and boast to her but you arch an eyebrow at her. "I have my ways."

 

You should've watched out for your liquor consumption because around the end of your third glass, you're starting to see stars and you're laughing and giggling to yourself. You would've stopped yourself but the cocktail was in fact really good and Carmilla hasn't yet peeled her eyes off you. And you really want to leave a good impression on her. Carmilla hops off her stool and you croon a desperate sounding " _No_ , don't go."

 

"You didn't even drink that much." She muses. You blink at her and she raises a perfectly curved eyebrow. "Then again, you're really small."

 

You vaguely hear her laugh and you feel yourself being tugged down from your own stool. 

 

"You're like an inch taller, big deal." You thrust your arms in front of you and Carmilla dodges your arms and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you swear you could've melted right onto the ground. She leads you to the exit and you're inhaling fresh air again, after an hour of that stale smoke-filled air in the club. 

 

"Where'd you live?" You hear Carmilla's sultry voice and you feel her poking gently at your arm. You nudge her off and shoot her a megawatt grin. 

 

"I can go home by m'self." You nod exaggeratedly. She steps away from you and balances her palms against her hips, cocking her head to the side. 

 

"Sure." She drags out and you pout. 

 

"I can, I live right there." And you weren't lying because your house was a mere two streets away, so you stumble in that general direction. You manage to drag your feet another three more steps before Carmilla's arm is around your waist again and you're suddenly more alert and sober. Her fingertips graze the small slither of skin exposed from where your tank top ends and your jeans start, and you can feel the warmth radiating from her body pressed against your right side. 

 

The two of you make it back to your house fifteen minutes later, after a lot of stumbling. Carmilla wets her lips and gently pushes you towards your porch and you turn back to look at her. 

 

"D'you know how to go home?" You ask her, eyeing the garage where your dad's car was absent. He probably had to work night shift today. You look back up at Carmilla again and her shoulders shake with laughter. 

 

"Worry about yourself, cutie." She turns away and starts to walk down the pavement again. "I live right there." She mocks you and you furrow your eyebrows, heat rushing to your cheeks. You watch her silhouette illuminated by the street lamps for a few more seconds before sighing and retreating back into your own house. You blink in the darkness as you shut the door, immediately burying your face in your hands and groaning. 

 

You'd wanted to impress her, but now she probably thinks you're some lame and annoying teenager. You drop your hands back down and padded slowly to your bedroom, dropping the keys into the bowl at the kitchen table on the way there. 

 

* * *

You're in school the next day, more disoriented than usual when Lafontaine claps you on your back. You wince and frown at them. "How'd it go?"

 

They're the only one who knew about your plan. You shake your head and puff out a breath through gritted teeth. "I think I messed up."

 

"You think?" LaF burst out laughing and you hit them on their arm. They poke at your arm and the both of you walk to your lockers. "You can always try again?"

 

You're about to tell them that you probably blew all chances with Carmilla when someone shuts their locker in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up and you immediately recognise the smug face you spent the entire of last night memorising. 

 

"Hey Sundance." She tilts her chin towards you and you wave awkwardly. "Surprised to see you here after last night." She smirks and shoulders her bag while you and Lafontaine watch her leave. LaF beams at you and you blush, watching the sway of her hips as she walks into her class.

 

"Yup, you can always try again." They nudge you and you feel the corners of your lips tugging upwards. 

 

* * *

You're back at the club for the fourth time and every single time, Carmilla would be at that same stool, almost as if she were waiting for you. Every Thursday without fail, you'd show up at the club, palms clammy as you hold onto your ID. You’re more aware of your alcohol consumption now, since you weren't too keen on embarrassing yourself in front of Carmilla again.

 

It was your seventh time there that you finally almost get caught. You think you're finally getting used to this place. You're swinging your legs back and forth while you draw on the condensation of your glass with your finger. Carmilla’s looking at you from her chair and you're smiling to yourself. You've been talking to her a lot over the loud pulsing music and though she still refuses to talk much, you're the one doing all the talking. By now, the bouncer at the door allows you entry without even asking for your ID, he merely smirks at you before pushing open the large doors for you to enter.

 

 An hour after you've settled down that day, police sirens sounded through the club and things quieten for just a moment before most people start scurrying out the exits. Carmilla cocks her head at you and you look back at her, uneasiness evident in your eyes. She shrugs and before you know it, she's dragging you out through the back exit of the club, her fingers laced together with yours. You turn your head back in time to see flashing red and blue lights and you quicken your pace, adrenaline shooting through your spine. The two of you run off in the opposite direction from where the police cars were parked, and you're laughing softly as you follow Carmilla. You're not even sure if she's aware of where she's going but you follow her anyway.

 

You're running and you don’t remember the last time you felt like this, a few moments later, you realise Carmilla had stopped. You clumsily slam yourself into her and she lets out a something in between a huff and a _whoa,_ and you step back, your shoulders heaving as you try to regulate your breathing. You crack up and laughter bubbles up your throat and Carmilla’s staring at you weirdly, so you stop as you clutch at your stomach. She nudges her chin out as if asking, _what’s so funny?_ And you shrug, one hand reaching up to comb through your disheveled hair.

 

“That was fun.” You breathe through large gasps of air and Carmilla furrows her eyebrows at you for a moment before a smile surfaced upon her face, her cheekbones rising and her eyes crinkling. 

 

“You’re so weird.” She shakes her head and you scratch at your cheek with one finger, beaming up at her. “You’re lucky you're cute, creampuff.” Your heart flutters against your ribcage and you let outone last drawn out breath. 

 

Carmilla tugs at your arm again and she's pulling you somewhere. You're suddenly aware of the sound of the crashing waves and that the solid concrete ground beneath your sneakers was slowly disintegrating into fine sand. You look down at your joined hands and you look back up at Carmilla and for the first time ever, she looks nervous. You tentatively rub your thumb against hers and she blinks before you see her visibly relax. Your gaze fixes on the curves of her cheekbones and it was then that you realise that she intimidates you. She's absolutely stunning, her pale skin shining under the moonlight as if it were carved from marble. You had to pull yourself back from running your fingertips along her jawline, and you allow your eyes to trace the contours of her sharp nose as she looks upwards. Carmilla is beautiful, almost ethereal. She flicks her tongue out and you think about how your Greek teacher once mentioned that those Greek goddesses in mythologies were the most beautiful and delicate beings ever. But you look at Carmilla’s eyes reflecting the moonlight and you think that those goddesses have nothing on her. She breaks you out of your reverie when her lips part minutely.

 

“I come here a lot.” She speaks softly over the roaring sound of the crashing waves. You look at her with a half shocked expression and she jabs at your cheek.

 

“Sorry you just don’t look like the type who—” You trail off, not finding the words you needed. Carmilla scrunches her nose up and clicks her tongue. “Haven’t you heard, don’t judge a book by its cover?” You think she's offended but you look up at her and you've never seen her more relaxed. You hum softly, dropping her hand and lowering yourself down onto the sand. You cross your legs and look up at Carmilla, who was looking back down at you almost fondly. You pat the space next to you and she plops down ungracefully, eliciting a giggle to burst forth from your lips. She rolls her eyes and plants her palms into the soft sand, tilting her chin up to look at the sky.

 

“I come here to look at the stars.” She continues and you look up, propping yourself backwards on one palm. Your jaw drops and you hear Carmilla laughing beside you. “I know.” She whispers and you blink up at the sky. You've been so focused on Carmilla that you never noticed the swirling constellations painted across the cobalt sky. You observe the twinkling canvas before you for a few minutes and you stick your arm out, pointing towards the sky.

 

“That’s Orion?” You ask, finally recognising one of the many constellations splayed out before you. Carmilla chuckles and you swipe at your bottom lip with your tongue. 

 

“How’d you know?” Carmilla nods, confirming your doubt.

 

“My dad bought me a constellation book when I was nine.” You blurt out without thinking and Carmilla laughs. You wince, waiting for whatever snark comment that you're sure is about to roll out from Carmilla’s lips but she smiles and breathes softly.

 

“That’s nice.” 

 

* * *

The two of you sat there for what seems like an eternity, with Carmilla tracing out constellations after constellations for you, and you trying your best to keep up with her words. You perk up when she mentions the twelve zodiac signs and she snickers in amusement. “You let the stars decide your fate?” She mumbles and you tilt your head to look at her. 

 

“What?” 

 

“You believe in zodiac signs.” Carmilla rephrases and you shrug, you found them pretty accurate. You’re trying your best to stay awake but with the rhythmic crashing of the waves on top of Carmilla’s soothing voice, you found yourself dozing off just as Carmilla started mentioning Pisces. 

 

“My dad’s a Pisces.” You slur, blinking tiredly while focusing on the heptagon that Carmilla just traced out. She looks at you, an amused expression adorned on her face and she smirks.

 

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” She tugs at your shirt and you protest, swiping your arm against your eyes and pointing at another constellation.

 

“No,” You whisper softly, shaking your head. “Tell me what’s that.” You stubbornly refuse to budge.

 

“C’mon, sleepyhead.” Carmilla pulls you to your feet and you whine. “I’ll tell you next time.”

 

Your ears perk up at _next time_ and you're giving Carmilla a wide smile. 

 

“What? Something on my face?” She rubs at her cheek and you shake your head.

 

“Promise?” You ask, and she shoots you a confused look for a moment before realisation floods her. 

 

“Sure.”

 

She walks you home and the two of you stand on your porch. You stick your pinky out and she shakes her head, no. You pout at her and she rolls her eyes, scrunching her nose up and hooking her pinky with yours. She backs out of your porch and back onto the main road and you smile, waggling your fingers in a farewell.

 

“That was Cancer, by the way.” She nods and smirks at you before turning away and walking down the same route you've seen her take seven times now.

 

You enter and gently shut the door behind you, plucking up the post-it that your dad left for you on the counter. You communicate with him like this a lot, especially when his work requires him around at ungodly hours. You scribble out a reply as fast as you can and stick it to the wall, staring at it for a second before uncapping your pen and adding a ‘love you’ on the edge of the paper. You bound up the stairs two steps at a time and fling open your cupboard immediately, rifling around for the astrology book you mentioned to Carmilla earlier.

 

You find it ten minutes later, piled under thick layers of textbooks and you flip open the first page, cringing at your old handwriting. 

 

**this book belongs to: LAURA HOLLIS**

 

You run your fingertips over the frayed edges and you smile, gently closing the book and dropping it onto your bed. You quickly strip off your jeans and climb under your sheets, flipping open the cover again and running through the pages. That night, you fell asleep with the table lamp on and the book opened beside you. 

 

* * *

 

You turned seventeen on October fifteenth. 

 

You've been keeping quiet about this for seventeen years now, and really, you didn't feel the need to throw a huge party. Your dad would bring you out on the weekends, to the carnival, to a theme park, or even just a fast food restaurant, and your friends, those two or three who actually knew about your birthday, would give you presents. You lug home the huge bag that Kirsch, the friend you made in lit class, gave you and the small package that LaF passed to you that day, and you quickly change into shorts and a t-shirt. The weather was starting to get a little chilly but really, it’s nothing you cant handle. 

 

You meet Carmilla that night at the beach for the ninth time (you’d been counting). Carmilla no longer visits the club, after the both of you visited the beach that night. She waits for you now under the giant slanting coconut tree, and each time you'd catch her gazing up at the stars, her knees tucked against her chest. She looks so much younger when she's sitting there quietly, her usual power-filled aura gone. She leans her chin on her right knee when you step behind her and cover her eyes with your palms.

 

“Guess who?” You feel Carmilla tense up but as quickly as it comes, she relaxes back and she shrugs.

 

“I don’t know.” She grumbles, though you can feel the smile creeping upon her features. You giggled when she tried to pull your hand away but you refuse to remove them.

 

“Guess, grumpy pants.” You stick your tongue out at her before realising she couldn't actually see it.

 

“Cupcake,” You shake your head and mumble a _no_. “Laura.”

 

Your hands fall back to your sides and you sit down next to Carmilla. It’s the third time she's called you by your actual name in the fifteen weeks that you've started hanging out with her, and you hold on to the way your name rolls off her tongue. She turns to smile at you and you return the gesture. You tug off your cardigan and drape them over your crossed legs, pushing your palms back to lean against them.

 

The two of you mostly sit in silence, though you complain a lot about your life and Carmilla mostly listens, giving her input once in a while. You once told her that you wanted to be a journalist and she haven’t stopped calling you Lois Lane ever since. You’re about to start your weekly complain about your horrible lit teacher when Carmilla clears her throat.

 

“Uh,” The raven haired girl started, pulling her bag next to her and unzipping it. “I heard it was your birthday.” She slowly draws out, her eyes searching your own as she carefully extracts a box from her bag. Your eyes widen as she opens the box and pulls out a pink frosted cupcake, holding it gingerly in her palms. Carmilla pulls a candle out from the same box and lights it up with a lighter she produced from her pocket. 

Carmilla looks up at you and back at the cupcake in her hands. “Ah, first time I've seen you speechless, cutie.” She laughs nervously, squinting against the glow from the candle. You look back at her face, illuminated by the candle’s glow, the light accentuating her high cheekbones, and you feel tears prickling the edges of your eyelids. “Oh my god are you going to cry? Shit I’m sor—“

 

You cut her off by pushing yourself forward and flinging your arms around her neck.

 

“Whoa!” She drops her right palm back into the soft sand and her left arm elongates further away to prevent the fire from going out. “You’re a fire hazard, Hollis.” She laughs, nudging you off her.

 

You quickly swipe at your eyes before pulling yourself back to look at her again. “Hey look the wax is melting off and dripping onto the cake and I spent really long on the frosting so you might want to—”

 

You smile affectionately at her and you shut your eyes, quickly making a wish before blowing the candle out. “What’d you wish for?” Carmilla plucks the candle off and hands you the cupcake.

 

“If I tell you, it wouldn’t come true.” You laugh, holding the cupcake in your hands and looking down at the frosting.

 

“You’re no fun.” Carmilla pouts and you grin, sliding your finger against the frosting. 

 

“Is this Libra?” You ask her, looking at your cupcake intently, your eyes tracing the bright blue icing over the pink cream. She nods and licks her lips. You lift the cupcake to your lips and you take a bite, while Carmilla stares at you hesitantly.

 

“How is it?” She asks, pointing at the cupcake. You nod furiously, taking another mouthful and smiling at her while trying to chew. “I’m going to take that as a pass.” Carmilla bubbled, her eyes crinkling as a smile forms. You nod in agreement while you finish up the last bit of the cupcake and dust off the crumbs. 

 

Carmilla produces another box and hands it to you. She digs around her bag for another moment before pulling out a folder. She hands it to you and you stare at it. Carmilla drops her bag beside her again and tilts her head at you. “Look at it when you're home.” She shrugs and you nod eagerly, dropping the items into your lap and carefully following your cardigan around them. 

 

“Thank you.” You can feel yourself tearing up again and Carmilla immediately wrinkles her nose.

 

“Hey, hey.” She croons, her hand coming up to wipe away the one stray tear that rolled down your cheek. Your breath shuttered as the pad of her thumb softly grazes your cheek. You don’t know why you're being so emotional, but Carmilla looks into your eyes and then you realise. You realise that no one has ever gone out of their way to make you feel this special. Sure, a cupcake and a few ordinary gifts aren't anything special, but it’s Carmilla. The girl who was unaffected by everything, who wouldn't care about anything that happened around her, unless it directly involved her. You look at her and you see a kind of softness and gentleness that you've never witnessed before, and you lunge yourself forward into her arms again. 

 

This time, she hugs back, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours cling around her waist. You realise you've never been in contact with her for longer than a second or two and you decide right then and there that this—being in Carmilla’s arms—was the best feeling in the world. Carmilla rubs up and down your back and you grasp her shirt material in between your fists. 

 

A few minutes later, Carmilla breaks the silence. “You wanna go home?” She asked so softly and you shake your head against her shoulder. Your voice is muffled from where your cheek is pressed to her neck but you whimper out a ‘no’.

 

And for the first time, Carmilla didn't argue.

 

* * *

 

The two of you sat under the stars for another two hours, your hand in Carmilla’s lap as she traces the constellations into your open palm. You tell her about your dad, and how he brings you out every year without fail, and that you used to do it with your mom too, but she passed away when you were seven. Instead of sympathising like most would, Carmilla merely thrusts her head upwards and stares at the sky, and quietly, she mumbled something about how your mother’s one of the stars above. Stars are a constant, she reminds you that they're always there and she tells you that she finds it comforting.

 

She tells you about her brother, three years younger than her, she tells you about how her mother busies herself in work, neglecting her children. You see her eyes gleam with pride when she talks about her brother. She mentioned that he’s never forgotten her birthday, and you tell her that you've always wanted a sibling. 

 

At one thirty in the morning later on, Carmilla walks you home. You arrive back at your porch and she smiles at you through heavily hooded eyes. You put your phone into her hands and she looks at you questioningly. 

 

“Give me your number,” You explained. “So I can tell you what I think of your gifts.” You quickly add and she laughs, throwing her head back.

 

“If you’d wanted my number you could've asked earlier.” She keys in her numbers and saved her own contact.

 

You chuckle and run your fingertips down her arm, a smug smile grazing your features when she shudders visibly. She groans and you push yourself on your toes to press a gentle fluttering kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.” You repeat again and she blushes, for the first time ever. “Happy birthday, Laura.” You smile wide at the mention of your name again. Twice in a day, you must be on a roll. You watch her back away from your house and she turns back to look at you, waving a goodbye before tucking one hand under the strap of her bag and shoving the other one into her back pocket.

 

Your dad returns just as Carmilla walks out of your vision. He parks the car and you hear the engine go out. “Hey kiddo,” He smiles tiredly at you and you hug him. “Happy birthday, even though it’s technically tomorrow now.” You punch his biceps jokingly.

 

“Thanks, dad.”

 

“That’s Carmilla?” He asked, thrusting his chin in the direction where Carmilla just left. You'd mentioned Carmilla once or twice in your post-it notes to your dad, when you tell him about your day. “Must be a special girl, huh.” He teases you, ushering you into the house. You whine a protest and he laughs, opening the fridge. “You wrote me three post-its trying to describe this girl, Laur.” He chuckles, pulling out a plate of leftovers and heating it in the microwave.

 

“She celebrated my birthday.” You whisper to your father and he looks up at you and cocks his head, beckoning you to tell him more. “She baked a cupcake and everything, I don't even know how she knew it was my birthday but she surprised me, and she gave me these presents—” You drift off and reach into your bag for the two separate gifts she’d given you. You open the box first, gently pulling out the necklace and cradling the magnifying glass pendent. A sticker of Lois Lane falls out and you grin, picking it up and rubbing it between your fingers.

 

“She knows you like that Superman girl?” Your dad creeps up behind you, holding his plate of heated food. You nod, pulling the folder out and sliding the piece of paper out of the opaque folder. You're face to face with a pencil drawing of your own face, and you choke back a sob. Carmilla drew this all from memory. You sitting beside her on the beach, from the countless times she's looked over at you, she's memorised it. You swallow the lump in your throat and you pick your belongings up. 

 

“I’m going to bed, dad.” You call out softly and he nods in response, looking over from the sofa. You dump yourself into your bed and you look at the drawing again, at the bottom of the piece of paper there were lines of elegantly written handwriting. 

 

**Of all the stars in the sky, you're the brightest one yet. Happy birthday, Laura.**

 

And you're tearing up again. You scroll through your contacts, quickly finding Carmilla’s and you press call. She picks up after the third ring. 

 

“Hey cutie, miss me already?” She slurs through the phone and you laugh, sniffing as you gently trace the words with your free hand. “Oh my god, are you crying again?”

 

You whimper into the phone and Carmilla speaks again. “Laura?”

 

You want to live in this moment forever.

 

“Thank you.” You really couldn't think of anything else to say as you blink back your tears, your eyes scanning the paper and landing on her neatly scrawled signature at the bottom right hand corner of the paper.

 

“Hey, we've been through that.” Carmilla says and you can hear the concern in her voice. “Like nine times tonight, cupcake.” You apologise while laughing, and she joins in, and if you had to pick a favourite sound, it would be this. 

 

You talk to Carmilla until you fall asleep that night, the phone lying beside you and the pendent clutched tightly in your fist.

 

* * *

 

You still don't talk to Carmilla in school, but once you're out of school, the two of you text non-stop. You meet her on more than one day a week now, and you're visiting the same isolated beach so many times you can recognise each and every landmark around that area. 

 

You still do the same thing, you talk and complain about the unfairness in this world and Carmilla listens, quipping a random remark when she feels like it, and you watch the stars until one of you grows tired. Carmilla walks you home every single night without fail, and you remind yourself to thank her with a quick peck on her cheek every time.

 

It was mid January when a storm hits in the middle of the night and the two of you had to run back to your house. You're both breathless by the time you reach the shelter of your porch. You look up at Carmilla, her wet hair matted against her cheeks and her eyes were wild. A crack of thunder slaps through the skies and she yelps, wrapping her arms around herself. You’ve encountered rain with Carmilla before but nothing as violent as this raging storm. You don't push her into admitting her fear, instead you invite her into your house and into your room. She perks up at her drawing framed and displayed on your desk and you blush when she points it out.

 

Another slap of thunder rings through the skies and rattles your windows and you look out, furrowing your eyebrows at the strange weather. Your attention was brought back to Carmilla when she lets out another whine, immediately turning away. You wrap a towel around her shivering form and hand her a pair of sweat pants and a large doctor who t-shirt you snagged from your closet. She looks at you and you shrug. You're insistent that Carmilla stays the night because theres no way you're letting her out in this weather. She’s about to protest when lightning illuminates the room and she visibly cowers. She nods and slips into your conjoined bathroom, appearing two minutes later changed into your clothes. You almost swoon at the way she looks in your clothes but you quickly grab your own set and dash into the bathroom, changing as quick as you can and quickly brushing your teeth. 

 

“There’s a spare toothbrush on the counter.” You drop down onto the bed next to her and she nods silently, retreating back into the bathroom and out again a minute later. “Uh - my bed’s big enough for the both of us.” You quickly say, noticing her hesitance and she hums, dropping down into your bed. She texts her brother to let him know that she wont be coming home and you drape the comforter over both of you and turned off the lights, frowning slightly when Carmilla immediately turns around to face the wall. 

 

You're almost asleep when another crack of thunder rings through the room and another tiny whimper burst forth from the curled up form in front of you. You tentatively move forward, and when she doesn't shrink away, you press your entire front to Carmilla’s back and sling an arm across her midsection. She quickly pushes herself backwards into you and grips onto your arm so tightly you think she's going to cut off circulation. But you press a soft kiss to the back of her bare neck and she relaxes in your arms.

 

You don’t sleep that night until you hear Carmilla’s breathing even out.

 

* * *

 

Carmilla sleeps over at your house a lot now, and truth to be told, you're enjoying it. Your dad already liked her to begin with but one Sunday when he’s sat at the couch, watching Game of Thrones on the television and Carmilla pipes up about one of the characters, he immediately told you he loved her, and she’d shot you a smug look you wish you could wipe off her face.

 

Carmilla’s in college now, and you're still a junior in high school, but the two of you meet up every night at the beach, and under those stars you'd tell her about your day. You want to hear about hers but she always insists that her day was dull and boring, you’d frown but then she’d announce that her day was better after seeing you, and your heart soared.

 

It was a Thursday night when you sat with her under those same stars again, a year after you first met her officially at the club. You were trying so hard at that time, and the thought makes you want to laugh, but seeing Carmilla in front of you reminded you of why you’d gotten that fake ID in the first place. 

 

One year later on that Thursday night you'd pulled her up onto her feet. She looks at you, the same amused expression she wore a year ago still evident in her features. Her expression softens when you step closer to her, so close that your breaths are mingling as one. Your hand grasps onto her forearm and her fingertips comes up to stroke at your jaw, a concerned look clouded her features. You smile at her, and she relaxes, her own smile surfacing. 

 

It was under those same stars that you'd first gotten to know Carmilla. And now under the same deep blue night sky, with the waves crashing next to you, you're asking Carmilla to be your girlfriend. Her lips are on yours before you even got your entire statement out, and your laughter bubbles into the kiss. She curls her fingers in the nape of your neck, teasing the few strands of stray hair there and you tuck yours in the belt loops of her shorts. 

 

You pull away and a breathless ‘wow’ escapes your parted lips. Carmilla looks at you through her eyelashes and you whine. It’s unfair how she gets to look like a goddess all the time. She leans her forehead against yours and you watch the shadows dance across the sharp features and curves on her face, and you smile, your lips curl upwards as you look at her. Because like those stars and constellations dotting the night sky above you, Carmilla’s now a constant in your life.

 


End file.
